The Poetry Corner

Part Of The Ninth Ode Of The Fourth Book.

By Alexander Pope

1 Lest you should think that verse shall die, Which sounds the silver Thames along, Taught, on the wings of truth to fly Above the reach of vulgar song; 2 Though daring Milton sits sublime, In Spenser, native Muses play; Nor yet shall Waller yield to time, Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay. 3 Sages and chiefs long since had birth Ere Caesar was, or Newton named; These raised new empires o'er the earth, And those, new heavens and systems framed. 4 Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died. In vain they schemed, in vain they bled! They had no poet, and are dead.